What the Bullet sang -- Bret Harte

This week's theme - war poems with unusual perspectives

(Poem #1033) What the Bullet sang O Joy of creation, To be! O rapture, to fly And be free! Be the battle lost or won, Though its smoke shall hide the sun, I shall find my love -- the one Born for me! I shall know him where he stands All alone, With the power in his hands Not o'erthrown; I shall know him by his face, By his godlike front and grace; I shall hold him for a space All my own! It is he -- O my love! So bold! It is I -- all thy love Foretold! It is I -- O love, what bliss! Dost thou answer to my kiss? O sweetheart! what is this Lieth there so cold? -- Bret Harte

          (1839-1902)

What first attracted me to today's poem was its striking originality - both
the first person voice from bullet's point of view, and the casting of the
narrative as a tragic love poem. Indeed, insofar as concept and content can
be separated, the former is definitely the predominant note in today's poem.
The actual execution, however, lacks the passion that the poet's theme seems
to call for, so that despite an interesting verse structure and some nice
imagery, all that I am left with at the end is the idea itself.

Even so, this is definitely a noteworthy poem, and prompts this week's theme
- a series of poems with unusual perspectives on war. I'm not going to try
and define exactly what I mean by 'unusual', but if you know a poem that you
think would fit the theme, do send it in.

-martin

Links:
  Biography of Harte:
    http://www.bartleby.com/226/2110.html

  A nice companion piece to today's poem:
   http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/hardy8.html